Something to Live For
by MorphZz
Summary: Widowmaker has always questioned her past life. She often had nightmares, consisting of gruesome scenes and odd lights. She had never been able to understand any of it. But ever since she's met Tracer, a sense of familiarity had found it's way it's way into her chest.
1. Chapter 1

"Stop looking at me like that." Tracer had been staring at her with a tired look on her face for the past five minutes, and it was starting to bother Widowmaker a little more that that woman's shenanigans usually do. "Why are you even here?"

Tracer though about that for a second, seemingly trying to find the right words. "I'm here because you don't like me being here, luv," she responded with a slight smirk. "And you're cute when you're annoyed."

Tracer was… aggravating. She was always there, no matter where in this damn world Widowmaker was. At the moment, she was on a rooftop on the outskirts of Venice, and her target was sitting peacefully in a coffee shop, completely oblivious to his impending doom. Widow turned to look back at Tracer, glaring at her. " _Ch_ _é_ _rie_ , I'd appreciate it if you could let me do my job without distracting me." To be honest, she wasn't really surprised by the fact that she hadn't even bothered to try and kill her yet, but nonetheless, it still bothered her. She was the Widowmaker, creation of Talon, and most likely the best sniper in the world. She could kill anyone with a single bullet to the head from vast distances away, and she was highly trained in close combat as well.

But even with all this training, all this _expertise,_ she had never been able to land a single shot on this woman.

In fact, she had only managed to injure her by leading her into a trap, and she had effectively gotten out of that, due to her time-controlling abilities.

"Luv, do ya really think I'm gonna sit 'ere and let ya kill someone?" she asked, straightening out from her slumped over position on the ledge of the balcony. Widow could have ran over and pushed the brit clear over the side of the building, ending this game once and for all (although Widow still doubted that, once again due to time-travel), but, to her surprise, she never did. She just sat there, listening to her speak. Tracer walked over, and sat right beside her.

"I'm just gonna sit 'ere, if ya don't mind," she playfully said, crossing her legs and resting her chin on the palm of her hand. Widow didn't think she would move even if she asked her.

" _Fine, two can play_ this _game,"_ she thought. She had only failed a mission once that month, so another one wouldn't hurt. Her target probably didn't deserve his fate anyway. If she remembered correctly, he was some CEO of a medical center. Why Talon wanted someone so trivial dead, she would never know.

Widow set her gun aside, resting it on the floor of the balcony. Tracer had left her annoying little pulse pistols over on the table in the corner, so Widow didn't see a reason to have her rifle too close.

"Why do you keep following me?" she questioned her. "I've been busy enough with everything Talon is making me do, so I don't really appreciate you getting in my way." Even with how annoying she was, Widow had to admit, it was nice to have at least somewhat of a change for once. Her life was rather monotonous, considering that she kills people for a living.

Tracer looked at her, brown eyes meeting yellow, and sighed. "Let's just say ya remind me of someone." She stated sadly. "Someone from years back, no-one special really." For once, Tracer seemed to be completely out of her seemingly endless supply of energy.

"If this woman wasn't special, why do you bother to follow me everywhere I go?" Widow wasn't sure how she would remind Tracer of _anyone._ By comparison to most people, she was a very violent person. " _If_ violent _was a good enough term,_ " she thought, somewhat amused.

"Well, to be completely honest, I didn't think I'd get this far," Tracer chuckled, nervously fiddling with a loose string in her jacket. "Widow, if ya don't mind me asking, what's your real name? 'Widowmaker' can't be your actual name, luv," Tracer asked, becoming more and more nervous by the second.

Widow froze. It had been a very long time since someone had asked her what her real name was. She wasn't sure if she was able to remember.

"… um, my name is...," she sputtered out. 'God dammit Widow, it's your _name_. It shouldn't be that hard to remember,' she thought. She looked at the woman sitting across from her, particularly the freckles on scattered around her cheeks and jaw line. It brought an aching familiarity to her chest. Suddenly, as if she had known it all along, a name managed to work it's way into her mind, making it's entrance loud and noticeable by giving her a slight headache. "Ah, right. My name is Amélie," she finally responded.

Tracer, who had been nearly shaking purely due to nervousness, looked as though she had stopped breathing. The shaking stopped, and the look on her face brought, much to Widow's surprise, a warm feeling to her chest. It felt different from the feeling she got when she flawlessly ended someone's life.

After a moment, she began breathing again, and began to look as though she was about to cry. "Yeah uh… I… figured that. Those eyes are no different from back then," Tracer said, almost on the verge of tears.

Widow was confused. "What do you mean by 'back then?'" she questioned. She wasn't sure why she was asking her all these questions, and not just trying to kill her, but she continued. Tracer was always energetic, so seeing her like this, all… drained, was quite the sight. "I do not understand how my eyes could mean anything."

"I… I.." was all she could stutter out before a choked sob escaped her lips. With the tears now freely flowing, she was having a hard time containing herself. "Oh my god Amélie, what did they do to you?" She took her goggles off, letting them hang loosely around her neck. Widow wasn't sure what to do. This feeling in her chest was… different. So much different than how she feels when she ends a life. It felt like a small flame, a candle perhaps, dwarfed by the mountain of ice within her, yet slowly melting it away.

Widow sat uncomfortably, waiting for Tracer to calm down. She watched as her sobs slowly came to a withering halt, and her breathing steadied. She looked at Widow, giving her a small smile. "Sorry about that luv, I'm sure you've no idea what I'm rambling on about," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I don't normally get all teary-eyed like that."

Widow, unable to speak after seeing Tracer like that, sat there staring at the other woman. All of her features, whether it was the piercings in her left ear, or the subtlety of all her freckles, seemed so familiar. Her mind felt like a dam that was about to explode, releasing her deepest memories. Widow had known for quite some time that Talon had done this to her, taking her emotions, memories and free will away, and claiming her as their personal weapon. She had never held a grudge against them for it either, because she had never remembered what her life was like before.

All she had from the past was her name (which she had only just now remembered), her French, and the faint memory of her hands clenched tightly around a neck, squeezing the life away from someone.

She often had nightmares, the majority of them pertaining to the rather violent death of the unknown person. The others were… odd, to say the least. They included menacing lights, hovering above her, as she felt as though she was floating, yet unable to think. She never understood them, so she rarely questioned them. When she did, however, she didn't get far.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she looked back up at the woman across from her, attempting to form an answer to give. "It is okay, I didn't mind it," she lied. Of course it had bothered her. She had no idea as to how she should go about dealing with this situation. She wasn't even sure when Tracer was trying to go with this conversation. "Although, I will admit chérie, I felt rather uncomfortable with seeing you like that. You are always so energetic, so to see you the complete opposite felt..." she struggled to find the words to explain her thoughts.

Seeing her in deep in though, Tracer waved her hand in front of Widow's face, attempting to get her attention. "Luv? Um, how did it feel?" she asked, with a hint of desperation in her tone.

Startled at suddenly seeing a gloved hand in front of her face, she looked up at Tracer, finding a questioning look on her face. "… oh, um.. I'm sorry, what?" she asked, not hearing what she had said.

"How did it feel? Seein' me all down in the dumps?" she asked once more, clearly desperate for an answer.

Widow wasn't quite sure how to respond. She didn't even know what this feeling was, much less how to explain it. "It feels… different, yet familiar at the same time," she managed to put together. "I have so many memories from the past, but I can never fully access them. The ones that do manage to slip my mind confuse me, so I find no point in them. It's all very bothering."

The assassin wasn't sure why she was being so open with the time-controlling brit, but she didn't really care at the moment. She felt as though she was finally making some progress on her past life, and no matter how small said progress may be, anything helps. For the past five years she had been forced to kill people, and brainwashed into doing so against her own will. She had only ever wanted to know about who she really was, and if this woman, of all the people, was able to help her, then she would gladly accept her help.

She just wasn't sure as to how to go about asking her.

"T-Tracer, I know I've tried to kill you and all, but puis-je vous demander une faveur?" she nervously asked, not knowing what her response would be.

Tracer looked at her with a questioning look. "Um, sorry luv, but I don't speak French," she giggled. "Damn, shouldn't have went with Spanish in High School," she added under her breath.

Widow, just now realizing what had happened, slightly smirked. "Ah, sorry. Bad habit chérie," she quickly added. "Can I ask you a favor?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I just wanted to thank you for the support you gave on the last chapter. This is my first fic, so naturally, I was nervous. Seeing as though a decent amount of you like it, I'm definitely going to be writing more for it.**

 **I'm not planning on having any set schedule, but I am going to try and get a new chapter out every so often** **, so keep a look out for any updates!**

 **Also, thank you very much to Kumoma and The Queen Baby for reviewing the first chapter! It helps me a lot, so please try and leave a review saying anything, good or bad, about the story.**

 **-MorphZz**

* * *

Widow sat on the couch, waiting for Tracer to return with the food she had insisted on making. She could hear her humming in the kitchen, a faint smell of sausage coming from the door to her right. She couldn't remember the last time she had a home cooked meal, much less _sausage_. The relatively small meals she had to eat at Talon weren't much, so she was grateful to have something different for once.

"Oi luv, I hope you don't mind good ol' Bangers and Mash!" she heard Tracer yell from the kitchen. "I haven't had it in ages, and I'm sure you'll love it." Widow wasn't sure what "Bangers and Mash" was, but it smelled _magnifique._ She could smell a few different spices being used, as well as the mouthwatering scent of mashed potatoes and butter.

"You really don't have to make this Tracer. You're already flown me here, so there's no need to make me dinner," Widow responded. She felt like she didn't deserve this hospitality. So many people, innocent or not, had died by her hand. She just didn't feel worthy to even be in this woman's presence, much less have her help with her personal problems. She was quite surprised when she actually said yes.

Tracer walked into the room, carrying two plates. "Oh come now, luv! I'm trying to make ya feel a bit more comfortable," she said, gesturing to Widow. "You've been tense since ya got here. Just relax, luv." She handed Widow her plate, and set hers down on the coffee table. She went to go sit down, but suddenly stopped herself. "Oh, right. I guess a fork might be somewhat necessary," she said, her cheeks turning a shade of red. "Be right back." She walked around the couch, and back into the kitchen. She looked… different, to say the least. She wasn't wearing her usual orange spandex and union jacket that she was so well known for. She was instead wearing a white Overwatch shirt, and loose fitting jeans. Widow felt that this outfit suited her better, and that it almost made her look… cute. ' _Wait, why in the hell am I thinking like this?'_ Widow thought to herself. But now that she had actually thought about it, Tracer really was an attractive woman. She felt a small warmth rise to her cheeks, and looked away from the kitchen door, hoping that she wouldn't be seen like this.

When they had arrived at Tracer's apartment, she was surprised to find it quite organized. The blankets were folded neatly, and stacked together in a basket in the corner. The living room consisted of a couch, a TV, with a small stand under it, and a low sitting table in between the couch and TV. She also had multiple posters hung up around the room, some of which depicting multiple members of Overwatch, looking forward in determination. Widow wasn't really surprised by this. Tracer seemed quite prideful when it came to her being a former member of the disbanded league of heroes.

"Sorry 'bout that. I could only find one good fork, all the rest are dirty," Tracer said, walking back into the living room. She handed Widow the utensil, and pulled out a white plastic fork. "Bah, this'll work," she said, finally sitting down, and resting her plate in her lap.

"Chérie, you don't have to use that. I'll gladly allow you to use your own fork." Widow was about say more, but was suddenly cut off.

"Widow, it's alright, it really is. I use those forks all the time, so I don't mind using something a bit different. Like I said, I'm just tryin' to make you feel a bit more comfortable," Tracer said, a re-assuring smile making it's way to her face.

Widow nodded, and began to eat. Her first bite tasted like heaven, the spices of the sausage meeting the butter perfectly. She couldn't remember when she had last eaten something that was _this_ good.

Widow sat there, fork resting in her mouth, staring blankly at her plate. Tracer, who had already eaten almost half of her meal, glanced over at Widow. "Uh, luv? Are you alright?" she asked, a small amount of worry finding it's way into the tone of her question.

Hearing this, Widow snapped out of her dazed trance, and looked up at the woman beside her. "Oh! Um, yes I'm alright. Merci Tracer, c'est délicieux," she quickly said, not realizing the language she had used.

Tracer smiled warmly, and continued eating. "I'm just gonna guess that ya like it," she managed to say in between bites. Widow, at first confused by what Tracer had said, suddenly realized what she had done. Once again, she looked away, her cheeks becoming unusually warm.

After composing her self, Widow looked back at Tracer, taking another bite. "Where did you learn how to cook this?" she asked, suddenly curious. ' _Anything to get my mind off of her appearance.'_ she thought, willing the heat in her cheeks to stay down.

Tracer looked at Widow, a sad smile on her lips. "My mum used to make it all the time, back before... you know, everything. The Omnics and all that," she responded. "I always watched her make it, though I had never made it myself until a few years back. It sounded good, and I faintly remembered how she made it, so I just whipped it up."

Widow nodded, setting her empty plate on the table in front of her, and adjusting herself in a more comfortable position. "It was very good. I cannot remember the last time I have had anything like it."

"Thanks luv. I can't say I've ever had anyone praise my cooking skills," she said, chuckling. "I haven't had anyone over in ages. It's nice, to be honest."

Before Widow could even process what she was about to say, the words had already left her lips. "If I had the choice, I would visit all the time," she said sadly

"Well luv, I was hoping that you'd be able to do just that. If I'm gonna help ya get your mind straight, we're gonna have to be somewhere where no-one will bother us, preferably here, considering that it's private," Tracer quickly said, hoping to lighten the mood. The look on Widow's face was almost making Tracer sad herself.

"So, you're saying I'm able to come back?" Widow asked, reluctance creeping it's way into her voice. She almost couldn't believe her ears. This whole time, she had thought this was going to be a one time deal, and after this, they would go back to their old ways.

"Well of course luv! We're not gonna be able to get your memories back in one night!" she exclaimed, breaking out into a wide grin. "I really am looking forward to helpin' ya Widow. I've got a feelin' that we could be good friends once this is all said and done. That is, if you want...?" she finished, the question hanging in the air.

"Yes, I think I would like that." Widow said, smiling at Tracer. "Thank you, for everything."

"Bah! Don't mention it! It's not like I've got much to do anyway. Winston hasn't got anything for me, so I've just been travellin'. Looking for you, really." Tracer said, slightly blushing. "But never mind that! Now then, where to begin?"

* * *

 **A bit of a shorter chapter, I know, but I'm most likely not going to have that long of chapters anyway. Probably in the 1,200 to 1,800 range for the most part.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-MorphZz**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 is out! I had a good time writing this, but it was a little more difficult than I had expected.**

 **Also, sorry about the slight delay. I know I said there wasn't going to be a set schedule, but I still feel like I'm updating a little later than I should be. I probably would've had this out yesterday, but I just didn't get to finishing it. I dunno, let me know what you think.**

 **Once again, thank you very much to Kumoma and The Queen Baby for reviewing the last chapter, and thank you also to tonyreece7 and an anonymous guest. Like I said, reviews help me a lot, so please don't hesitate to give any feedback.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-MorphZz**

* * *

"Alright luv, this is gonna be the fun part, so let's get started," Tracer said, handing Widow a cup of tea. "I guarantee ya that this'll help ya focus. Always helps me, anyway."

Widow had wanted to start with the basics, so she could get a general idea of who she used to be. Tracer didn't want her starting with anything too extreme, so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed.

Taking a sip, she turned to the woman next to her, looking straight at her bright brown eyes. "Désolée, but before we start, I've been meaning to ask you something." she said, gripping her cup with a slightly harder grip. "W-Why do you trust me? I work for Talon, so for all you know, this could be a trap."

Tracer, meeting her gaze, set her cup on the table, and softly gripped both of Widow's shoulders. "Widow, I'm trusting you right now for a number of reasons. One: Ya haven't shot me yet. I like to think that's a pretty big one," she replied, smirking. "Two, you've looked genuinely nervous all night. Don't think I haven't noticed, luv."

Widow gazed into her eyes, Tracer's face mere inches from her own. "I-I'm guessing there's a third?" she questioned, shakily laughing. Tracer smiled, and moved her lips next to Widow's right ear.

"Third," she began, "is because this is a rather vulnerable position, and ya haven't done nothin' to harm me, so I'm highly doubting that this is a trap." Tracer removed her hands from her shoulders, and moved back into her cross-legged position, sipping her tea once more, as if nothing had happened. "Now, not that your question is bad or anything like that, but I think I've got something to beat ya," she said, glancing at Widow. "Why do _you_ trust _me_? _I_ work for _Overwatch_ , or what's left of it anyways, so for all _you_ know, this could be a trap."

Widowmaker, who was still dazed by the sudden close proximity with Tracer, realized that she hadn't even considered that this could be a trap. She was so worked up with her memories that she had forgotten about her own safety. She looked away slightly, and thought for a moment.

Why did she trust her? All she knew was that she did, and that was that. Tracer seemed like a genuinely nice person, with only good intentions. She was almost always in a good mood, and she was very determined. Widow, of all people, would understand that the most, considering all of the failed attempts at getting Tracer to leave her alone.

To her surprise, she was… _glad_ that she hadn't stopped bothering her.

She looked back at Tracer, slightly smiling. "Tracer, you've brought me into your own personal home, and left yourself open for an attack." she said, smirking. "This isn't a trap."

Tracer looked back at Widow, returning the smile. "Course it's not. I'm not a.. trappy sort of person," she said with a giggle "Besides, you asked me, luv. There's no way I coulda planned anything."

They both sat there, staring at each other. After a good ten seconds, Widow was the first to break away. "Anyway, now that that's over with, let's get started, oui?" she said, relieved to be able to look away. She was having a difficult time tearing her vision elsewhere. Her eyes were beautiful.

Shaking her head, she smiled, and clasped her hands together. "Alright, now where to begin! Well, first off, I just wanna point out that ya used to be, ya know, not evil. You were on our side, Overwatch's that is," she said, taking another sip. "You were never an official member, but you were always cheering us on. You were at almost every 'mission success' party, and you always brought homemade cookies. Bloody delicious, those were."

Widow nodded, taking in the information. She had baked cookies for the members of Overwatch? She congratulated them at their own parties? She looked away, attempting to process what she had just heard. Out of no where, as if it had been in her head the whole time, she mumbled out a short phrase. "Chocolate chip." After doing so, she brought a hand up to her mouth, looking at Tracer.

"Wait… _what?_ " she asked, a look of confusion on her face. "Did you just… oh my god. Widow, luv, did you say _chocolate chip_?!"

Widow nodded once more, a slight headache beginning to form near her right temple. "I-I did, oui. I don't know why, it just popped into my head," she said, rubbing her temple.

"Widow, that was the flavor of your cookies. Ya never made any other kind, because you loved chocolate chip so much," Tracer exclaimed, setting her tea down on the table. "Luv, I think you may have just remembered something. As small as it may be, it's still something."

Did she remember something? If she had, that was great and all, but this headache was beginning to bother her. It had almost doubled in pain, and her hand was starting to get tired after rubbing her right side. "Tracer, do you happen to have any medicine for headaches?" she questioned, wincing at the pain. "I don't know what's wrong, but my head is killing me."

"Yeah luv, I'll be right back. I've got some in the kitchen." she replied, quickly getting up and blinking into the other room.

By now, the headache had spread to her whole head, making her cry out in agony. "Tracer! If you could hurry up, that would magnifique!" she shouted, doubling over in pain.

"I'm trying luv! I've got so many damn meds in here, I can't find em!"

This was bad. _Bad_. She's had her occasional headache here and there, but this was utter _pain_. Her breathing was beginning to become shorter and shorter, and the sides of her vision darkening.

"I've got em, luv!" Tracer yelled, taking them from the back of the cabinet.

As she ran back into the room, Widow looked up at her, seeing a face of sadness and concern. Before she fully lost consciousness, a short name drifted into her head, past the pain. She whispered it, not knowing who's it was. " _Lena..._ ".

She blacked out.

* * *

She woke with a start, her eyes slowly opening. She felt like utter _shit_. The headache was still there, but it was no-where near as bad as it was. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. She was in a bed, a comfortable one, with a quilt and soft pillow. A lamp was on in the corner, sitting on a small table. She slowly sat up, not wanting to aggravate her head any more.

After looking around, her eyes came to rest on Tracer, asleep in a chair, next to a small desk. She had a small pillow, most likely from the couch, under her head. The chair was wooden, and had an oddly shaped back. It looked very uncomfortable.

After a moment of though, she realized that this must be Tracer's bedroom. Draped over the back of the chair was her uniform, the orange spandex and the union jacket.

"Tracer." she whispered, attempting to wake the brit. She had brought Widow to her own bed, so Widow felt as though she at least deserved a good night's rest. "Chérie, wake up."

She didn't wake, so Widow slowly got out of bed, making sure to be quiet. She approached her, resting her hand on her shoulder, and slightly shaking. "Tracer, wake up, you need to go to bed." she whispered once more, trying to get her awake.

"Mhhmph… f-five more minutes." she mumbled, nuzzling her head farther into the pillow.

Widow smirked, smiling at the woman. " _She's hopeless,_ " she thought to herself. Shaking slightly harder, she spoke in a louder voice, "Tracer, come on, wake up."

After taking a long breath, Tracer slowly brought her head up, yawning. "Oh, bloody hell. Why'd you wake me up?" she asked. She rubbed her eyes, and slowly looked around. "You know how much I like to sle-" she looked at Widow, her face instantly turning to that of worry.

" _Widowmaker?!_ What in the hell are do-" she looked at her again, her features slowly relaxing. "Oh my god, I'm sorry luv. Just not used to this yet." she said, resting her hands on her knees.

"It is okay chérie, I understand. Sorry for waking you, but you looked rather uncomfortable." she replied, rubbing her head. "And yes, I am feeling fine. I just need some sleep."

Tracer nodded, getting up, and heading for the door. "You can take the bed again. I've got the couch."

"Nonsense, there's room for two." Widow said. "Besides, it is _your_ bed."

Tracer turned around, glanced at Widow, and nodded. "Alright, if you insist." She walked across the room, now heading for the right side of the bed. She climbed in, burying herself in the quilt.

Soon after, Widow climbed in, doing the same.

"Hey, luv?"

"Oui?

"That name, the one ya whispered before you blacked out. Do you know who's it is?" she asked, looking at the woman next to her.

"I do not, although the name 'Lena' does seem vaguely familiar." she answered, looking back at Tracer.

She giggled, and looked back at the ceiling, resting her head on the pillow. "It's my name, luv. You've remembered me"

* * *

 **So, I've decided to start doing some translations for Widow's French. Sorry in advance if I completely forget to add them in later chapters, as I _was_ planning on having them for last chapter.**

 **Désolée - "Sorry"**

 **Oui - "Yes"**

 **Magnifique - "Magnificent"**

 **Chérie - "Dear"**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 is out! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, as they've given me a general sense of what to write in the future. In regards to Widow getting her memories back a bit too fast, I was planning on her getting those first few back faster than the others, just to show that her mind can't take it. I'll try and have her get them back slower now.**

 **Also, this chapter is in Lena's perspective. I'm planning on switching between the two character's perspectives every 3-4 chapters, depending on where the story is going.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-MorphZz**

* * *

Lena entered the store, intending to get in, get what she needed, and get back home as fast as possible. This was the first time she had actually gotten to Widowmaker, and she didn't want to waste the opportunity to save her.

For three months, ever since Mondatta **,** she had been following her, trying to get her to understand that she only wanted to help. For the first month, the confrontations consisted of 'Wotcha lookin' at luv?'s and then lots of shooting and running away. The second month, Widow had actually began talking to her, although the conversations were brief, and they also usually ended in shooting.

The third month included a cease fire. Lena could tell that she was annoying the assassin, but she was beginning to change. She was no longer giving her short responses, and they were actually beginning to have somewhat civilized conversations, but Widow still didn't want much to do with her.

Lena missed _Amélie_. A lot.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where the tea is?" Lena had been searching all over the store for tea, but eventually she just gave up, and resorted to searching for an employee. When she arrived at where it usually is, she had found orange juice instead. "I've been searching everywhere for it. I just can't find it."

The man looked up at Lena, setting down the ham he was restocking into the deli. "I dunno why, but last week we had to move the tea to the opposite side of the store. You should find it right next to the coffee."

She thanked the man, and made her way towards the other side of the store. She was beginning to worry about Widow. She was taking too long.

After grabbing the tea, she made her way around the store, gathering everything else as fast as she could. It was almost lunchtime, so she grabbed some sandwich meats and cheese.

She approached the check-out lanes, only to find that there were only two of them open, each of which very busy. " _Shit_ , _why now?"_ she thought, rushing over to the self check-out stations. She only had two bags worth of food, so she would be able to blink her way home.

Gripping the two bags, she rushed out of the store, and down the street, zipping her way through the constant flow of cars. She had told Widow that she would be back in two hours at the most. She had told herself that she would try and get back in forty-five minutes.

She was only a good minute away from her apartment when a sudden movement above her caught her eye. A black drop ship, heading in the same direction as her. " _Oh no… oh no no no, shit!_ " She began blinking non-stop, not caring if she drained the energy. She needed to get there first.

She wasn't going to lose her again.

Just barely keeping up with the ship, she came to her apartment, rushing through the door and up the stairs. Approaching her door, she dropped her groceries, ripping her keys out of her pocket. Unlocking the door, she kicked it open. "Widow! Where are ya luv!" she yelled, running into her living room. Widow ran in from the kitchen, holding a cookie.

"Tracer, what the hell is going on?!" she asked, her tone clearly worried.

"It's bloody Talon! We need to lea-" the window to her left shattered, and Tracer instantly felt a stinging sensation on her neck. " _Améli_ _e, get down!"_ she yelled, feeling at her neck. A needle, it's effects immediately taking action. She was already feeling drowsy.

Before she could react, another needle came through the window, striking Widow in the neck. "Putain de merde, what the hell?" she screamed, taking the needle out.

Lena's vision was already darkening, her legs no longer strong enough to stand. She collapsed, falling on the side of the couch. "Amélie, please try and run," she whispered to Widow. "Please, I don't want to lose you again."

Three people, dressed in all black, came through the door. They surrounded Widow, binding her arms and legs. They picked her up, and proceeded towards the door.

Lena was unable to help her. She was barely even able to think. "Not again..."

* * *

Lena woke up, breathing heavily. She sat up, confused. She looked around the room, trying to make out her surroundings.

She was in her room. In her bed.

And to her right was Amélie. Asleep, and unharmed.

" _Bloody hell, it was a dream_ ," she thought, her breathing beginning to slow. " _Oh my god, it was just a dream_."

She slowly got up, not wanting to wake Widow. As she made her way to the door, a small voice get her attention. "Chérie, where are you going?"

She turned around, giving a small smile to Widow. "Sorry for wakin' you luv. It was just a bad dream." she said, turning back to the door. She glanced at the clock. "I'm just goin' for some fresh air out on the balcony. You can sleep more if you like, it's only four-thirty."

Widow nodded, smiling back. "Okay, Tracer," she said, climbing back under the covers. Lena left her room, closing the door quietly. She needed to calm herself. She hadn't lost her, and she was perfectly fine. " _Just a dream, Lena_."

Lena walked through her home, and over to the balcony doors. She opened them, instantly feeling the cool night air against her skin, as opposed to the warmth of the inside. She sat down, running her hands through her unkempt hair, as tears began to run down her face.

She cried.

She cried because the only woman she had ever truly loved was trapped, and devoid of her own memories. Sure, she was getting them back, but she had to be slow about it, otherwise she would end up getting hurt.

At this rate, it would take a good long while before Lena was able to speak to Amélie. _Her_ Amélie.

A good few minutes had passed before Lena heard a knock on the glass balcony doors. She turned her head, finding herself looking at Widow. Lena raised her hand, waving for her to come out. She walked out, and took the seat next to Lena.

"What is wrong, Lena?" she asked, her eyes full of worry. She saw the look of confusion on Lena's face. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you mind if I call you that?"

Lena laughed, smiling at her. "Yes luv, it's alright. I'd prefer you to anyway." she replied, rubbing her hands together. The cold air wasn't necessarily pleasant, but she could bear it. It woke her up, and reminded her that this was real, and it wasn't a dream. "And no, _Amélie_ , I'm really not."

Amélie smiled, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's nice, having a proper name for myself," she sighed, rubbing her arms. "But seriously chérie, what is wrong?"

Lena sighed, wiping the remaining tears away from her eyes. "Remember the person that you reminded me of? The one I was talking about last night on the rooftop?" she questioned. "My dream was about her. It ended… badly." Lena was having a hard time containing herself. The only thing she wanted to do at that moment was tell her that the person she reminded her of was her, and that they were together before everything went downhill.

But she couldn't. She feared that if she brought back too many memories at once she would black out again. And Lena couldn't do that to her.

She loved her too much.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" Amélie asked. "I you don't want to that's alright, but I'm here if you do."

Lena nodded, giving her a small smile. "She was… taken from me. Again. And I wasn't able to do anything about it. _Again_. I'd rather not get into the details." she responded, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to start crying again. It wasn't like her.

Amélie nodded back, and began to rub her hands together. "It was just a dream, chérie. Keep that in mind."

Lena frowned, looking her her hands. "We can go inside, if ya like. I admit it is rather chilly out here," she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"Oui, that would be nice," she responded. "Also, I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep anymore. I'm wide awake."

"Oh that's alright, luv. I was actually getting a bit hungry if you wanted some eggs or somethin'. I can whip up a couple of plates." Lena said, standing and heading for the door. She opened it, and held it for Amélie. "Ladies first."

Amélie laughed, rushing inside. "Some eggs would be nice. Scrambled, if you don't mind."

Lena walked in, and closed the door. "Just what I had in mind, luv."

This was the beginning of a new day. Hopefully Lena would be able to get her to remember a few smaller things, so that she wouldn't have a bad reaction. On top of that, Talon would be looking for her, so she would have to stay inside for the most part.

Lena made her way into the kitchen, pulling the eggs from the fridge. She thought for a moment. What could she possibly remember? Who knew?

Maybe she would remember her cookie recipe. She missed those cookies.

* * *

 **Man, my cursor was over the 'submit' button, and I was like "WAIT, THE TRANSLATIONS!" :P**

 **Putain de merde - "Fucking shit"**

 **Oui - "Yes"**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey Guys! Chapter 5 is here! Sorry about the wait, I'm lazy. :3**

 **By the way, WidowTracer has officially started in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Amélie stood in the kitchen, staring down at the mixing bowl in front of her. _Why in the hell is this not working?!_ She had done everything perfectly, and even after doing so _five_ _times_ , she still couldn't get the dough right.

When it came to cooking, she wasn't really the most experienced.

"Luv? You almost done in there?" Amélie turned to her right, looking at Lena through the kitchen doorway. "If ya want some help, all you've got to do is ask."

"Non, I've got this chérie. I'm just not really… familiar with it," Amélie answered, taking out another round of ingredients. She hadn't remembered the recipe, but knowing she had made cookies made her want to bake some. The act of baking seemed slightly familiar, but overall, she really didn't have a clue as to what she was doing

Being stuck in a Talon base for a good few years meant you never got an opportunity to do anything but sit there and think about the fact that you literally have _nothing_ to do. The only thing she actually looked forward to was going on missions, and every single one ended the same.

Before Lena had started harassing her, Widowmaker was perfectly content with what her life consisted of.

As if she ever had a say in the matter to begin with.

Widowmaker had wholeheartedly believed that she was going to spend the rest of her life in that facility. Her emotions were dulled to the point of nonexistence, so it's not like she was able to feel sad for herself.

Then, one day, she was assigned with the task of killing Tekhartha Mondatta, during his peace speech in King's Row. As usual, her mission was a success, but unlike her other missions, she had met someone who almost stopped her. A girl. A British, time-controlling girl who, little did Widow know at the time, was going to change her life.

This girl's name was Tracer or, more appropriately, Lena Oxton.

For the three months following the events of King's Row, Tracer had basically followed Widow to at least half of her missions. She would always greet her with a "Wotcha lookin' at luv?" or a "Hey luv! Wot are ya up to?" In the beginning, Widow had hated her, her voice, and everything that had to do with her.

After about a month, Tracer began approaching her more subtly. She would usually make her way up to the rooftops, eventually find the sniper, and blink over to her. With a quick cough, making her presence know, she would sit down on the rooftop behind Widow, completely silent.

She wasn't sure why, but up to this point, Widowmaker had _dreaded_ the time of Tracer's arrival. But now, she simply awaited it. Tracer would sit behind her for quite sometime, simply waiting. If Tracer noticed the sharp intake of breath from Widow, signaling she was about to take a shot, she would find a way to distract the sniper, ending the silence.

Once the third month hit, Tracer began to ask her questions. The majority of them were "How's your day been luv?" or random ones like "Wot's your favorite color?" Widow rarely answered, but one question the brit had asked once triggered something in the back of her head.

* * *

"What's it like? Not having emotions and all that," she asked, fiddling with a string on her jacket. Widow was in the middle of placing a well timed shot with a former accountant of Talon. A betrayal, she had assumed. Hearing these words, she flinched, turning to Tracer.

"What?"

"Well wot's it like? Not being able to hate, or like, or be sad or..." she stuttered, barely getting her last word out. "love."

Widow stared at the girl, thinking. What did it feel like? At first, she simply felt nothing, as if that component of her life was never there to begin with. But then she began to notice these small moments where she felt as though she should be feeling something, but she wasn't able to grasp onto it, as if it were just the wind.

"Uhh, luv? Ya there?" Tracer asked, waving her hand in front of her face. Widow shook her head, and looked away.

"Empty," she stated simply.

Tracer looked at her, a confused expression on her face. "Wot?"

"It feels empty," she stated once more, glancing at the other woman. "Like something should be there, but it's not." Why was she wasting her time with this girl? She had a job to do.

"Well doesn't that ever bother ya? Knowing that everyone else, including myself, can feel these thing when you can't?" Tracer inquired, her eyes holding a pleading look. Widow glanced at the device on her arm, checking the time.

"I must be leaving, chérie," she stated, securing her sniper on her back. "Talon is expecting me back soon."

Tracer stared at her, searching her eyes for an answer. She nodded, and stood up. "Catch ya later then." She blinked away, running across the rooftops.

"Au Revoir..." She waited until she was sure she couldn't see the other woman, and pulled her sniper back out. After a quick search, she silently cursed herself for being so stupid. Not only was she talking with an enemy, she had let her target get away. Her mission was still active. She would succeed tomorrow.

* * *

After that conversation, Widow had promised herself that she would no longer converse with Tracer, but two missions later, she found herself doing just that. Once again, she asked her if her lack of emotions bothered her.

No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, truth be told, it did.

She began having her nightmares. When she would wake from one, the thoughts of a young pilot and a man would linger in her mind, giving her a slight headache. Other times, only thoughts of the pilot would bother her.

Tracer, seeing her up on the rooftops, seemed so _familiar_ , with the way she talked, to the way she styled her hair.

The night before Widow had finally asked Tracer for help, Widow had a dream. For once, it wasn't a nightmare. This was a good dream, to Widow's surprise, that was full of happiness. It consisted of walks along the outskirts of London, taking in the scenery, and long nights of staying up with the pilot from her thoughts, and watching movies.

Upon realizing that this pilot was _Tracer_ , she realized that this woman might be the only way she could finally understand what was _wrong with her_.

She mixed the last of the ingredients in, stirring the dough vigorously. She's had enough of this. Taking out a flat metal sheet, she began forming small piles of dough on it, and set it in the oven. Amélie set the timer, and walked into the living room. "Sorry about the wait, chérie," she said, sitting next to Lena. "That took longer than expected. I'm afraid they may not be the best."

"Oh, I'm sure they won't be bad, luv," Lena reassured her, resting her hand on Amélie's. "'sides, you've always been a great cookie maker. They'll probably be bloody delicious."

Amélie turned to Lena, smiling. "Thank you Lena, once again, for everything."

"Ya welcome, luv. Trust me, you deserve to know your own life," she said, smiling back. "But I've been thinking, luv. I could contact Winston and tell him our situation. I'm sure he'd be able to help you if I can just get the big guy to understand what's wrong. We'd be able to stay somewhere more secure."

Amélie's eyes went wide. Not only was Lena willing to help her, but Overwatch itself might be willing to do so as well? She thought for a moment, considering what might happen. "Do you trust this Winston?" she asked.

"Course I do, luv. We've been best friends for years. He knows who you are. Well..." she stopped for a moment. "who ya were."

She nodded, turning away. "Do it. As much as I like it here, I'm sure we would be safer in an Overwatch base."

"Well, it isn't really an official base yet. More of an outpost, if ya ask me. It's still got security systems and all that though," Lena concluded, reaching for her phone. "He'll understand, trust me." She turned it on, and dialed a short number, raising it to her ear. "Winston? Yeah luv, it's Lena."

Amélie rubbed the back of Lena's hand, signaling to her that she was going to check the cookies. Lena smiled at her, taking her hand.

Amélie felt a small feeling her chest, rising from the couch. She entered the kitchen, and put on an oven mitt. She checked the cookies and, seeing that they were cooking well, thought for a moment.

Did she like Lena?

Every time she looked at her, she couldn't help but stare at her eyes. They were _beautiful._ Her personality so up-beat and contagious that Amélie couldn't help but smile almost every time she talked with her.

"Luv? Can ya come in here?" Lena said from the living room.

"Oui, I'm coming." she responded, taking her oven mitt off, and setting it on the counter. Upon entering the living room, Lena tackled her with the biggest hug she could manage.

"He said yes, luv," she whispered, smiling. Amélie hugged her back.

"When can we leave?" she asked, pulling back to look at her.

"He said he's gonna have a few agents pick us up. I guess they'll be here in an hour or two," she stated, looking at Amélie. "He didn't say who, cause he wants it to be a surprise."

"A surprise?" Amélie asked, suddenly curious. How could a few normal agents be a surprise?

"Yeah, apparently a few more of the more official agents answered the recall." Lena pulled one of her hands back, and began fiddling with a loose string. Amélie noticed this.

Was Lena _nervous?_

Now that Amélie looked around, she realized that they were still hugging. "Chérie, is everything alright?"

Lena looked up from her jacket, only to find that her face was much closer to Amélie's than before. "Y-yeah, everything is fine." she said nervously. They were mere centimeters away from each other now, their eyes locked to one another.

Amélie's thoughts were exploding right now. ' _Putain de Merde, is this really happening?'_ she thought.

Lena began to lean in, their noses barely brushing. "C-couldn't be better." She stopped herself, their lips now scarcely touching.

Amélie could feel Lena's breath on her lips, and brushing past her cheeks. Why did this feel so familiar? She pushed these thoughts away, and focused on the situation at hand. _Vissez._

She pushed forward, fully connecting their lips. Lena sighed into her, wrapping her arms around her neck. Amélie continued kissing her, wrapping her arms around Lena's waste.

After a few moments, they pulled apart, in the need of air. They looked at each other, a smile of genuine happiness on both of their faces.

"I lied, by the way," Lena said, nuzzling her face into Amélie's neck.

"About what?" Amélie asked, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"It was better, luv." she said, smiling. "So much better."

* * *

 **A few of you have been wondering why Amélie has been so... humane. I explained why in this chapter, as I talked about the three month span of their meetings.**

 **Translations!**

 **Non - "No"**

 **Chérie - "Dear"**

 **Au Revoir - "Goodbye"**

 **Putain de Merde - "Holy shit"**

 **Vissez - "Screw it"**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! Chapter 6 is out! I'm really enjoying writing this now, seeing as though I can finally write the two as a couple. I swear, WidowTracer is so adorable. :P**

 **On a side note, I'm starting school next Monday, and doing so is most likely going to slow down the updates for this story. I'll try and get 2 or 3 chapters out this upcoming week, but I'm not sure. I'll still be writing it of course, but as I said, it will most likely slow it down a bit.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Amélie?"

"Oui?"

"How have ya been handlin' all this?" Lena nuzzled her head further into Amélie's neck, taking in her scent. She had missed this. _A lot._

Amélie nodded, tightening her grip on Lena's body. They had been resting like this for a good twenty minutes, eating cookies and holding each other. The cookies, to Amélie's surprise, had been wonderful.

"What do you mean?"

Lena raised her head, looking up at the woman holding her. "Ya know, gettin' your life back?" she said, tucking a strand of the French woman's hair behind her ear.

Amélie smiled, caressing Lena's cheek. "Chérie, my life has been better in the past 2 days than it has been in the past 5 years, thanks to you," she whispered, planting a soft kiss on Lena's lips.

Lena returned the smile, breaking the kiss, and returning her head to the crook in Amélie's neck. "Well that's good. Hopefully we'll actually be able to get ya head back to where it should be once we get to the Watchpoint."

Suddenly, a low hum was heard, causing the two to look at each other. "Think that's them, luv?" Lena questioned, concern present in her voice.

The hum began growing louder, signaling that it was getting closer to the apartment. Amélie thought for a moment, before looking back at Lena. "I do not know, although it hasn't been that long." she stated, rising from the couch. "I suggest you contact Winston, quickly."

"Way ahead of ya," Lena smirked, already having her phone out. She dialed the number, and raised the device to her ear.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

The fourth. Nothing.

"Shite! He's not answering!" Lena exclaimed, returning her phone to her pocket. "Grab the necessities, luv. We need to leave, now!"

* * *

Lena and Amélie exited the building through the back door, into a dark, and well hidden alley. "I know this city like the back of my hand," the brunette said, lifting her bag farther over her shoulder. "Follow me, and keep ya head down.

Amélie smirked, and began following her. "You know, I'm still technically the world's best assassin. I know what I'm doing," she teased.

"Ah, right. Sorry luv."

Amélie smiled, and began picking up her pace.

They stopped at the end of the alley, and quickly hid behind a small dumpster, blending in with their surroundings. A drop ship had suddenly flew over them, blowing trash and debris everywhere around the alley. Lena, looking up at it, caught sight of the side door.

The Talon insignia.

Lena looked down, staring at the woman next to her. "It's Talon, I saw the ship." Just then, her phone began vibrating, signaling a call. The pilot grabbed it out of her pocket and, looking at her screen for a split second, answered the call, raising it to her ear. "Winston! Where the bloody hell were ya?" she whispered angrily.

"I apologize, Lena. I was using the restroom, and didn't hear the phone." the scientist replied.

"Well this is bloody important! How far out is the rest of the team?" she asked, glancing out at the street.

"Well, according to their last update, about ten minutes," Winston said, his voice slightly muffled, as if he was eating a banana.

"Well tell them to speed up, because it's only a matter of time until Talon finds us. We just left the apartment." Lena explained.

"Oh God, Talon is after you? Lena, I suggest heading to the spot. I can tell the team where you'll be."

Lena smiled. She _loved_ the spot. "Alright big guy, thanks for the assistance."

"No problem Lena. Good luck."

She hung up, and returned the phone to her pocket. "Amélie, there's a spot not far from here that agents used to use as a rendezvous. We need to get there."

They both rose from hiding, and walked out into the street, blending into the crowd. "Where exactly are we headed?"

"Big Ben," she said, smiling at the woman beside her. "Nothin' special."

Amélie turned to look at Lena. "Big Ben? How in the hell are we supposed to get past security?"

"Oh, don't worry about that luv. Us Overwatch agents have our ways." She winked at her, and raised herself to Amélie's ear. "Secret entrance," the pilot whispered.

"Really?" Amélie said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh come now, it's cool and you know it."

They continued walking, keeping a close watch on their surroundings, and the sky above them.

"Oh, I've got ya something luv." Lena reached into her bag, and pulled out a pair of Aviators. "Keeps our identity in check, _and_ makes us look like bad asses." she said, handing them to the French woman, and pulling out a pair for herself.

Amélie took them, and rolled them around in her hands. "T-These seem familiar, Lena." Lena, putting on her pair, turned to look at her.

"Whaddya mean luv?"

She turned, looking at Lena. A bundle of hair had fallen across her eyes, causing the brunette to blow it back in place. At that moment, a searing hot pain flashed through Amélie's head, causing her hands to hold it in agony. "Oh God. Lena, alley. NOW." She stumbled to her right, stopping herself from falling by grabbing Lena's shoulders. "It's happening again."

"It's alright luv. It's okay. We gotta get into cover," she said, picking up Amélie bridal style. "Shit, of all the times." Lena was worried. She made her way across the street, staying low. Upon entering the alley she sat down behind a dumpster, laying Amélie out across her lap.

Visions were passing through Amélie's head, causing her to cry out a muffled yell.

* * *

" _Promise me you'll come back safe, Lena." Amélie caressed her cheek, smiling._

" _Ya know I can't promise ya something like that, luv. You never know what could happen with this thing," Lena said, leaning into her lover's touch._

" _I know, I know. It just makes me feel better."_

 _A knock on the door broke the women from their trance. "Agent Tracer? The Slipstream is ready whenever you are."_

 _Lena turned back to Amélie, smiling. "Alright, I'm comin'"_

 _The British pilot reached into her pocket, pulling out a pair of Aviators. "Luv these things. Makes me look like a bad ass."_

 _The French woman laughed, causing Lena to smile even wider. A bundle of hair had fallen across her eyes, causing the brunette to blow it back in place._

 _Lena made her way to the door. "Catch ya on the flip side, Amélie. I love you."_

" _And I love you, chérie. Good luck."_

* * *

Amélie took a breath, the pain slowly subsiding. She looked up at Lena with a questioning look in her eyes.

Lena looked down at her, a frown on her face. "Whatever ya remembered luv, we can talk about it later. Now's not really the best time for a conversation," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Can ya walk?"

Amélie tried to lift herself off of Lena's lap, but wasn't able to. "Non, I can barely move."

"Alright, that's okay. I can give Winston our location, and he can have 'em pick us up here."

Suddenly, a large amount of footsteps could be heard right outside the alley, along with a commanding, and raspy voice. "Find them! I'm not letting that bitch get away, especially with that pilot!"

Unless one of them actually came down the alley and looked closely, they wouldn't be found. They were well hidden, in between the dumpster and a pile of cardboard boxes.

"Chérie, that's the leading commander of the base I was stationed at," Amélie whispered, leaning closer to Lena's ear. "This is not good."

"It's alright luv. They won't find us."

"And if one of them does?"

Lena thought for a moment, before reaching into her bag, pulling out a black cylinder. "Always wondered when I was gonna need one of these."

"What is that?" Amélie asked, looking at the item..

"It's a silencer, 'specially made for my pistols," she explained, screwing it onto one of her pulse weapons. "Makes 'em so quiet, it's like ya not even shooting anything. Quite cool, really."

The French woman nodded, before pulling out a pistol of her own, this one already being silenced. "I suppose it can't hurt to have more than one gun," she said, grinning.

"Today's military in a nutshell, that is," Lena whispered, returning the smile.

"How long do we wait?" Amélie asked, glancing around the corner towards the street.

"As long as we have to, luv."

* * *

 **Translations!**

 **Chérie - "Dear"**

 **Non - "No"**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **P.S.: The "commanding and raspy" voice is _not_ Reaper, for those of you who might've been thinking so. I'll most likely be adding him in the future.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Sorry about the delay, I would've had this chapter out earlier today, but I was visiting some family. I've already started on chapter 8, so hopefully (hopefully) that'll be out soon.**

 **Also, on a slight side note, turns out I'm starting school not tomorrow, but Tuesday. So that gives me a bit more time to get this next chapter out.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"How many?" the French woman whispered, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead.

Lena leaned forward, stealing a quick glance around their only cover. "Only two," she responded, gripping her pistol. "They're already in the alley."

"Okay, stay hiding."

The two women had been like this for roughly ten minutes, keeping an eye on the entrance to the alley. Lena periodically checked her phone, hoping that Winston would message her. The team had to have been at the spot by now.

The two soldiers continued down the alley, keeping an eye out for anything that moved. Amélie took a quick glance around the corner, before quickly pulling her head back.

 _Both equipped with rifles, presumably automatic, no silencers._ She secured the suppressor on her weapon, flicking the safety off. Glancing at Lena, she brought a finger up to her lips.

The pilot nodded, before giving her a signature mock salute. Amélie was able to move now and, just barely standing, was definitely able to fight. Waiting behind the dumpster, they waited for the two to get closer.

Widowmaker had never really enjoyed killing. She never really disliked it either. Although one thing she _despised_ were her treatments, and she would do almost _anything_ to prevent those.

The soldiers were mere feet from their position, slowly advancing forward. Amélie looked at Lena and nodded, bringing her pistol up. _3, 2, 1…_

The French assassin rose from hiding, before promptly putting a bullet in between the eyes of the soldier on the right. Lena, blinking behind the second, pressed her pulse weapon to the back if his neck. "Sorry," she whispered, before unloading, causing the man's body to fall limp to the ground.

Blinking back behind cover, Lena turned to the woman next to her, frowning. "Never been a big fan of that."

Amélie nodded, taking the brunette's hand. "Oui, I understand," she whispered, taking her hand. "Just know that it's Talon. They would do the same to you."

Lena was about to respond when the same voice from earlier resonated from down the street. "God dammit! What the hell do you mean? They've got to be here!"

Another man began talking, the two women just barely hearing him. "Sir I… yes I know… we've checked the whole… sir I… oh god no! Plea-" was all they could hear before a loud gunshot could be heard.

"Someone come get this disappointment! We're heading back to HQ, ASAP!"

Amélie turned to Lena, who was quite shaken by what had just happened. "He is an unforgiving man. Once again, just know that it's Talon."

Lena looked at Amélie, and nodded. She smiled, making the French woman's chest hurt, and causing her to take a mental note. _Her smile is dangerous, avoid it at all costs,_ she thought, before smiling back at her. _J'aime cette femme trop._

Lena pulled out her phone, dialing a number. "Alright, well I'll go ahead and call up Winston." She put the device up to her ear, and idly played with the loose string on her jacket. "Don't wanna have 'im worryin' or nothin'."

Amélie leaned back against the brick wall, releasing a relieved sigh. She didn't want to be around Talon anymore. Not with all they've done to her. For too long she's been manipulated and forced into performing actions against her own will, and against her own _humanity._ For too long, she believed she would spend the rest of her uneventful life in that _hell._

Then, for the second time in her life, she met the woman who would ultimately risk her own life to save her own.

She glanced at the pilot that was sitting across from her. Lena was sitting cross legged, her left hand occupied with the string while her right was holding her phone. Her hair was unruly, even more-so than usual, with multiple strands facing every direction possible, and her Aviators resting upon her brow.

"Winston? Yeah it's Lena. No, I'm fine big guy," she said, standing up. She looked at Amélie. "You alright luv? Winston 'ere just wants to make sure."

"Yes, chérie." Lena helped her up, and she lifted her bag over her head. "Tell Winston that I am grateful for what he is doing."

The brunette smiled, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Yeah luv, she's fine. She's thankful for what your doin'. She stopped to listen, her smile growing wider by the second. She glanced at the French woman. _I miss this guy sometimes,_ she mouthed, grinning. "I'm sending you the coordinates now."

Suddenly, a gust of wind came from the street. Both women turned, looking at the source of the sudden noise.

An _Overwatch_ dropship.

"Eyy! Amélie, they found us already!" she yelled, the ships engines drowning out her voice. "Winston luv! The team found us, so I'll be talkin' to ya in a bit, yeah?" she nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'll see ya later luv." she hung up, pocketed her phone, and grabbed Amélie by the hand. "Ready, luv?"

"Very."

"Let's go then! Oh man, I haven't seen any of the team in such a long time!" She dragged Amélie out of the alley, and towards the ship. As they drew near, the back door opened, revealing an angelic looking figure, wielding a mechanical looking staff and a small blaster. Standing next to her, a giant of a man, holding a massive hammer.

"Angela! Reinhardt!" she ran forward, Amélie struggling to keep up with her. Reaching the dropped door, she let go of her lover's hand, and embraced Angela with a bear hug. "Oh my god, luv! It's been too long!"

Angela hugged her back, smiling. "Yes it has, Lena. I've missed you very much," she said, pulling back to look at Amélie. "Now there's a face I've not seen in years."

Amélie nodded, giving the woman a slight smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are," she said, tapping at her temple. "My memories are still a bit messed up."

"Oh, it's quite alright dear. I am aware of your problems with remembering, so for now, I shall only give you my name." She walked forward, extending her hand. "Angela Ziegler."

Amélie blinked, staring at the woman. A dull throbbing at the back of her head, she reached for Angela's hand, giving a handshake. "Amélie LaCroix," she said, rubbing her temple. "Are you also, umm..." she thought for a moment, her eyes closed in concentration. "Ah, Mercy?"

Angela nodded, beaming at the woman in front of her. "That is correct, though I can tell your having some trouble. Please don't strain yourself."

Reinhardt lifted his hammer, strapping it on his back. "We should be leaving soon, my friends. Talon is still near."

"Right luv, let's get going." Lena blinked over to the armored man, giving him a light tap on the armor. "How ya been doin' old man? Still fond o' that bad ass hammer of yours, I see."

Reinhardt chuckled deeply, ruffling the hair atop the pilots head. "I've been quite good, Lena. I'm glad to see your still your energetic self," he said, looking up at the sky. "Ah, I remember when I was younger. Staying up late all the time, full of energy. Now I can barely stay up until seven!" He laughed again, walking into the ship.

Lena grinned, blinking back down to Amélie. "Alright luv, let's get outta 'ere, yeah?"

"Oui, I am ready," she said, her headache slowly subsiding. "That Angela woman. Did I know her?"

"Yeah, you two were great friends." She walked up the ramp of the ship, and took a seat. "She was devastated when you were taken. Really torn up, she was."

"How did you act?" Amélie asked, taking a seat next to Lena. "When I was taken."

Lena looked at her, a flash of sorrow present in her brown eyes. "Well, uh… I didn't speak to anyone for a good week."

"… what?"

The pilot chuckled, running her hand through her unkempt hair. "Yeah, my reaction was the worse of everyone's. 'cept maybe Ge-" Lena stopped herself. "Oh, yeah let's not do that yet. You'd probably end up 'aving a heart attack or somethin'"

Amélie stared at her, uncertainty in her eyes.

"Chérie… h-how close were we?"

"Two years," she stated simply.

"Sorry?"

"That's how long we were together, luv. Those were the best two years of my life." The ship began to lift off of the ground, before slowly picking up speed, and leaving behind the city of London. Lena gave the French woman a reassuring nod. "It's alright luv. We'll talk more when we get there."

Amélie smiled, giving the pilot a quick peck on the lips. "Okay, chérie."

In the corner of her eye, Lena saw Angela smiling at them.

"Seriously Lena? Already?" was all she had to say.

Lena brought her hand up, fanning it out on her chest, looking offended. "Oi! I'll 'ave ya know she's the one that kissed me first!"

Angela's smile widened. "And you presumably kissed her back?"

"Well yeah! Who in the bloody hell wouldn't?" She turned to Amélie. "Just look at her, luv! She's bloody gorgeous!"

Amélie turned away, blushing furiously. "Really Lena?"

Lena wrapped her arms around her, resting her head on her shoulder. "Come on luv, ya know it's true."

Hugging her back, Amélie smirked, and rose to Lena's ear. "And you're not too bad yourself, _love."_

Lena grumbled slightly, burying her head in Amélie's neck. "That ain't fair. I can't speak French! Fuckin' _cherry."_

Amélie laughed, pulling back to fully kiss Lena on the lips. "We might be able to fix that, love."

Lena groaned, resting her head back on her lover's shoulder.

Amélie grinned. She was loving this too much.

* * *

"Sir, what are our orders?" The grunt shuffled his feet, obviously nervous. For good reason, as he was speaking to the highest ranking Talon commander in this area of Europe.

The man across from him, sitting at his desk, thought for a moment before speaking. "Your orders are to report to Reaper. Tell him Markus wants to see him."

The grunt nodded, before turning to leave the room. "Yes sir."

Moments later, an audible knock could be heard from the door. "Come in."

Reaper who was, at the moment, Talon's best asset, entered the room. He came to stand in front of the commander's desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. As I'm sure you're well aware of, Widowmaker has escaped. I want you to find her."

Reaper nodded, crossing his arms. "When do I leave?"

The commander handed him an envelope. "Tomorrow morning. Here's some info the grunts got. I doubt it'll help."

The mercenary snorted, taking the envelope. "Never does."

Reaper left the room, tucking the envelope into his trench coat. He made his way to his quarters, entering the room, and locking the door behind him. Removing his armor, he climbed into bed, blankly staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow morning would be interesting.

* * *

 **So, Reaper will soon be coming into play! I dunno when, but expect me to do another short little excerpt of him. Probably of him trying to find Widow.**

 **Translations!**

 **Oui - "Yes"**

 **Ch** **érie - "Dear"**

 **J'aime cette femme trop - "I love this woman too much."**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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